


The March of Time

by Lying_potato



Category: Snow Queen - K. M. Shea
Genre: F/M, Gen, rakel is tired but also hopeful, sort of sad but not really, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29531133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lying_potato/pseuds/Lying_potato
Summary: Rakel has been alive for a hundred and eighty-nine years.
Relationships: Rakel/Farrin
Kudos: 4





	The March of Time

A hundred and eighty-nine years.

That’s how long Rakel Graydim has lived. A hundred and eighty-nine years since she was born, and a hundred and sixty-seven years since she first banished the Chosen for good.

Since she made her sacrifice and became a living legend.

_It’s been a good life_ ,  the ancient Monarch of Winter thinks wistfully. She smiles to herself, slowly making her way down the frozen marble steps of the Academy with the aid of a well-worn jade-topped cane.Her attendants move to help her, but she waves them off. She survived a war in her youth; she’s not so helpless in her old age that she can’t toddle down a few feet of a building she helped to build.

The Lux Academy of Verglas, the shining jewel of the mage community. She and Ragnar had named it after the elven word for  _ light _ , in the hope that it would always remain a beacon to illuminate the darkness. Possibly her crowning achievement; or at least, she would like to think so.

_Then what do you call your victory against Tenebris, a party trick?_ her beloved would have said, his slate-grey eyes wrinkling in rare humor.

_I call it my duty, _ she would have responded, long accustomed to this old joke between them,  _to have fought for a haven where mages can live freely. And the Academy is a place where they can nurture their gifts to help others._

And oh, it _was_. Refugees from Ringsted, Clarus, Torren, Sarthe—no, it was called Loire now, after that business with the Glass Coffin—all poured in, eager to prove themselves and embrace the possibility of a better life. It took most of a human lifetime to build a foundation, physically and emotionally, and nearly a second one for it to financially breathe on its own.

So many faces gone during that time. Her brother. Halvor. Oskar. Phile. Her reindeer Frigid. Snorri, Bunny, Crow, Knut, and all the other resistance fighters. Kai, Gerta, and the rest of her children, who lived a happy,  _human_ lifespan. Ragnar, Liv, and all the mages who had sacrificed their time, sweat, and blood alongside her to achieve their shared dreams.

Even her husband, gone one spring day in his sleep. Once more, she’s alone, just as she was in her childhood.

But this time around, she has the memories of a life well lived to keep her warm. A life well loved.

Her descendants, her brother’s grandchildren’s children, sit on the throne now, reigning just as fairly and wisely over the people of Verglas. She hopes they always will. The current Queen herself, her great-niece, had attended the ceremony today alongside her to observe the graduation of Willow, a new Lady Enchantress. Looking at the beaming face of the delighted girl and the proud countenance of her mentor, she’s reminded of a different celebration long ago, amidst thick snowfall and the triumphantly waving banners of reindeer and snowflakes.

Lord Enchanters and Lady Enchantresses. Those were the new terms they decided to call those rare mages with an overabundance of magic and prolonged lifespan. Naturally, they insisted on naming her as the first, though she suspects she is far from it. The Continent is changing almost too fast for her to keep up with, and she has no doubt it will continue to change long after she’s gone.

Lost in her memories, she pays little attention to the familiar landscape, letting her feet guide her on the neatly-paved walk to her home.

“You would have liked today,” she says to Farrin, to the perpetually empty space at her side. She’s not long for this earth now, she knows it, but she still likes to imagine he can hear her from wherever he is.

So much about magic still remains a mystery; perhaps a bond that’s shared beyond death is possible. And if anyone would be stubborn and obstinate enough to do so, it would be her Farrin.

One day, her story,  _ their _ story, will be lost to history, faded to myth and legend. One day, centuries later, there may come a time when an old enemy will rear its head once more, stronger and darker than ever. And like Steinar predicted, there will also be one born with both the extraordinary power and strength of character to destroy it for good.

But for the moment, the Snow Queen is content to walk the path of her dear homeland, telling her lost love the tale of a celebrated mage graduation and her hope for a new era. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make my day :)


End file.
